


Everlasting Light

by trainmango



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, M/M, Romance, kaisooaufest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 23:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7777303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trainmango/pseuds/trainmango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Jongin tries to get rid of his problems by simply making them disappear.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everlasting Light

**Author's Note:**

> A fic originally written for kaisooaufest's first round in 2016. An adaptation of the movie Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind.

_How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot,_  
_The world forgetting, by the world forgot._  
_Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind,_  
_Each prayer accepted, and each wish resigned._

\- Eloisa to Abelard, Alexander Pope

 

☀︎

 

Jongin wakes up one morning overcome by the inexplicable feeling that the world has changed. He’s still himself, still Kim Jongin, 23 years old broke accounting student. The ceiling of his 2 1/2 apartment in Sillim, Seoul, is still an old white bordering on grey, the paint flaking along the edge; the walls are still bare, and the sofa bed he sleeps in is still as comfortable as it could possibly get.

He remembers reading, a long time ago, how humans have a very limited perception of the world, how they probably lack some senses and thus many things go unnoticed around them. The world changes every time you close your eyes; with each blink, the world shifts a bit, but the transformation can never be detected, even if it’s right there. Eyes fixed on the ceiling, Jongin shuts his eyelids tightly and inhales slowly. When he re-opens them, exhaling at the same time, he frowns and concentrates on every inch his vision covers, trying to find _it_. How has the world changed between the moment he closed and opened his eyes? How has the world changed since he went to sleep last night and woke up this morning?

He lets a moment pass. _Something’s missing_ he thinks. He struggles to sit up, arms numb from sleep. He catches his silhouette in the dark screen of the television, head a nest of dishevelled hair. He checks the time on the old DVD player fitted right under the monitor.

6:23am

Nothing’s missing. He’s there, in his familiar apartment. The morning sun slipping through the window warms up his skin in a way that entices him to go back to sleep, but he’s lucky he woke up on time on his own, so he resists the temptation. He checks his phone only to notice his alarm isn’t set up like it usually is on weekday mornings. He hasn’t missed a day in the two years he’s been living in Seoul.

 _That’s something_ he thinks, but the strange impression doesn’t subside, it settles in the back of his mind as he gets up, puts on a pair of worn jeans and a t-shirt, packs his uniform polo in his bag between his calculus textbook and his pencil case, which is really just a 1000 Won plastic container he bought at Daiso last month when he broke the other one. It’s not that he’s a cheap guy per say, but he really _is_ broke, and it does the job just fine. He grabs his keys and pockets his phone as he walks out.

Nothing’s missing.

He feels stupid looking around his apartment building to catch even one thing, one detail that could ease the uncomfortable feeling, but everything looks exactly the same as it always has. The colors of the walls down the hallway, the carpet in the lobby, even the way the morning light hits his face and has him squint his eyes remains familiar, unchanged.

His phone buzzes as he steps out into the slowly awakening city streets, the sun mostly hidden behind the buildings and casting large shadows down Bongcheon-ro 20-gil, only a few minutes’ walk to the 504 bus stop.

 

 **Yixing:**  
Hey I hope you’re feeling better, call me if you wanna talk about it

What?  
Why?  
I’m feeling fine what’s up?

 

Jongin then looks up from his conversation with Yixing, catching his reflection in the display window of a cafe and startles so hard he nearly drops his phone from the shock.

" Holy _shit_? "

The skin around his left eye is darkened by a bruise so big it spreads onto his temple and over his eyebrow. He touches it tentatively and really, he doesn’t know what he expected. _It fucking stings._ How did he not feel this when he woke up?

" What the fuck. "

He looks back down to his phone, confused.

 

 **Yixing:**  
Nevermind

What the fuck  
Did I miss something?  
What happened?

 **Yixing:**  
What no? I said nevermind.

Do you know how I got a black eye?

 **Yixing:**  
No idea  
Maybe you fell during practice and you forgot?  
Anyway see you friday

 

The 504 rounds the corner down the road and he jogs up to the bus stop, lining up to get in, still fucking confused and still feeling like something’s not quite right, not missing but added; something that shouldn’t be there. The weird sensation grows stronger.

 

It’s a thirty minutes ride from Sillim to Hangang-Daero in upper Seoul. He found a job at a family restaurant located in the main hall of Seoul Train Station, back when he’d just moved in the metropolis to study, and kept it despite the distance. He doesn’t think much of it, just like he doesn’t think much of most things. He’s not a spontaneous person, nor is he particularly adventurous. Seoul university students can’t afford to be spontaneous; a routine is the safest and probably the easiest way of going about your life when it’s already filled with loans and rent, responsibilities and uncertainties. He’s never missed a day of work; not by good will or strength of mind but really just because he can’t afford it.

As he walks down the station hall, the strange, overwhelming feeling spreads down to his limbs, making the tips of his fingers prickle and ants crawl up his shins. He’s conscious of every step he takes, the sound of his sneakers hitting the tiles reverberating in his ears, the din of the station tuned out into a buzz that echoes off of the high ceiling. He passes by the departure screen, not stopping, but his eye catches the _Daejeon 7:35_. It imprints his vision even when he adverts his gaze, after a fraction of a second only.

He looks at the time on his phone and starts running.

He runs and runs and rushes down stairs two by two, almost losing his balance, and runs again. He hears the short melody from the intercoms signalling the train will depart soon, he sees the open doors shake and start to close but he takes a literal leap of faith and the next moment he’s exhaling all the air in his body as the engine rumbles and the platform recedes until the station itself disappears. Jongin is not a spontaneous person yet there he is.

 

☀︎

 

" I don’t think I’ll be able to come in to work today… yeah I— no I don’t feel well… I know…yes I will… yes thank you. Alright. Thanks again. "

The cart is almost empty and Jongin is glad he can avoid the curious glares his bruised face would have attracted otherwise. He must look like a delinquent or just pretty pathetic, really. Maybe it’s a good thing he didn’t show up to work in the end.

 

☀︎

 

_What did I even come here for?_

There’s nothing here. The streets are practically empty, the silence is thick, unwavering, and honestly Daejeon is fucking boring. Jongin has been walking aimlessly for an hour now, taking random turns when he feels like it, until he can only distinguish the busier part of the city from afar, skyscrapers in the distance standing out like sore thumbs from where he stands himself, surrounded by the slowly rusting tiled roofs and the polished wooden structures of the Hanoks. It’s without a doubt the quietest part of the city and there’s really, really nothing to do here. The streets climb up hill like meandering currents of a river, crossing and climbing onto each other. Soon he finds himself overlooking most of the city, not feeling like he accomplished anything concrete. What a waste of time.

When he turns at yet another intersection, there’s someone walking ahead of him down the street, but soon enough the silhouette disappears between two old houses. He catches up eventually and right there, between two ancient looking Hanoks, a steep rusty stairway goes down into a dead end, no one in sight. Gripping the rails tightly, he climbs down the stairs and at the end, on the wall, there are simple drawings in quick strokes, like painted by a child, and in the center, the words,

 

_Are you happy?_

_← yes  
_ _no →_

The _no_ points to the wall, so it’s not like Jongin has a choice.  
He turns towards the _yes_ and his heart stops.

A young man stands only a few inches from him, like an apparition, expression as surprised as Jongin feels himself. His hair is short and neatly cut, and the sun soaks his irises into a bright brown that contrast against the white of his eyes as he stares, blinking once, twice. Without a word, he pushes past Jongin in the narrow alley and climbs up the stairs, and Jongin stares at the man’s retreating back, a thin green sweater clinging to his back with the effort. Jongin wipes a drop of perspiration off his temple. To his right, down the alleyway, the path ends in a dead end too.

 

☀︎

 

He has that look on his face, the one you give strangers you meet by chance for a second time in a too short period of time, with that half smile that says you’ve noticed and acknowledged it. Jongin has a hard time looking away, and he returns the smile with a short nod. It’s awkward at best, the air between them heavy for no reason.

Jongin starts to regret this impromptu trip even more than he previously had from the complete uselessness it had been. He missed a day of work for no motive other than a stupid hunch, a stupid _feeling_ he had. Maybe he’ll be able to get an afternoon shift if he calls in on time. He can pretend he feels better. Maybe. The man is still looking at him and he wishes he hadn’t went at all. He wishes he’d chosen another returning train, at least, or another cart. He looks out the window at the landscape streaming past and wipes his palms on his jeans.

 

_What’s his problem?_

" That must’ve hurt. "

" I’m— What? I’m sorry? " _Please, god, no._

" I said, it must’ve hurt. " The man repeats slowly, but his tone isn’t condescending, just direct, stating a fact. He makes a noncommittal gesture towards his own face.

 _Right._ Jongin’s fingers touch the bruise under his eye as if trying to confirm it’s really what the man’s referring to. As if he could possibly mean anything else. The skin still stings with the contact.

" Huh, I— I guess? It hurts, yeah. "

Jongin doesn’t know why the man’s speaking to him. He’d never do that, he thinks. Address a stranger. He’s never been the best with people. He looks out the window again, in hopes they can leave it at that, but the man doesn’t seem satisfied with the few seats separating them as he stands up and chooses the seat right in front of Jongin’s, standing up on his knees to peek over the backrest.

" What did you do for someone to punch you this hard? Must’ve been pretty bad. "

His voice sounds even lower up close, within a comfortable hearing distance. It’s smooth and flows easily like water, Jongin thinks. He doesn’t even have to listen to hear.

" No I— well, I woke up this morning and it was there. I don’t know. "

" Wow. You must’ve been pretty drunk to even forget you got— "

" I’m sorry i’m…just going to… " He gestures to the window, taking out his earphones.

" Oh. " The man’s face falls. He kind of blushes a bit too, if Jongin saw correctly.

" Yeah. Yes, of course. I’m sorry. " He says. He looks embarrassed, but also surprised, brows furrowed in confusion. He sits back down on the seat in front of Jongin’s.

Fuck.

… _fuck_.

He can’t see him anymore but Jongin knows he’s there. He wanted to be left alone, but the silence, for the first time, is unbearable.

" Hey. "

He probably insulted the poor guy. He was just making conversation, nothing to deserve being shot down in this way.

" Hey, I’m sorry. I’m not really, I don’t know, good. With people. Sorry. "

Jongin sees the man’s head emerge as he stands, and, hesitantly, comes to sit down beside Jongin. He can see his face again. That makes him feel relieved, somehow. The man’s smiling, and he looks beautiful.

It’s stupid.

" I’m Jongin. " He says simply. He doesn’t know what else to do at this point, other than to introduce himself. Hopefully it’ll make him look a bit less withdrawn.

" Kyungsoo. " The man says. Kyungsoo. Jongin fights back a smile.

 

☀︎

 

They reach Seoul Station faster than Jongin expected. In fact, the train is right on time, but something had settled in his chest, like apprehension, right beside the weird feeling that hadn’t subsided since the morning. He wishes the ride had lasted just a while longer.

When he steps on the platform, he realizes he hadn’t called work to get his afternoon shift like planned. The station is noisy and crowded as usual. Kyungsoo looks at him with a sort of sadness in his eyes that Jongin’s never seen in someone, a bittersweet smile on his face that seems to say " so, this is it. "

" See you around, Jongin. "

It doesn’t really mean anything because they’ve just met, but he shivers from the force of the weight pressing down inside him. When will he stop falling for strangers on public transportation?

" Wait, Kyungsoo. " He feels his own shirt stick to his back, the early afternoon sun unforgiving as it hits his face. A drop of sweat runs down his temple again, but this time he doesn’t have the courage to move and wipe it off.

He just wants one more second.

" Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, each prayer accepted and each wish resigned. "

" What? "

" Give me your phone. "

" Okay. " He says. It’s simple.

Jongin takes out his phone and hands it to Kyungsoo, who glances at him with a sincere smile. He hopes Kyungsoo didn’t notice his hand shaking.

" Let’s do something tomorrow, okay? "

" Okay. " He says again. He doesn’t think twice. He knows he has work, he knows he missed a shift that morning too, but he doesn’t even think one second about hesitating.

 

Later, in his empty apartment, Jongin sits crosslegged on his sofa-bed, in his boxers like every other day, but looking at his phone, there’s a text from an unknown number that breaks the familiarity. _Something changed_ he thinks. Not something missing, but added; instead this time, it’s not out of place at all. He can’t look away, doesn’t dare lest the text disappears. The world changes with every blink, and he just can’t risk it.

 

 **Unregistered contact:**  
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, each prayer accepted and each wish resigned.  
That's from my favorite poem.

 

☀︎

 

Jongin doesn’t go to work the next day either, calling in sick again while trying to convince himself he’ll be able to live on Seven Eleven kimbap for a week. However, he doesn’t get any news from Kyungsoo until late in the afternoon. The text is expectedly short and direct.

 **Kyungsoo:**  
Meet me at Hongik Station.

 

There’s no specified hour and Jongin kind of panics.

Now??

 

He scrambles for a pair of jeans and just picks up his backpack from the day before, noticing he’s put on an unwashed shirt as he steps outside. There’s always just this much he can do properly, and in the end he lets it go and jogs to the subway station, his heart in his feet.

 

Kyungsoo stands amidst the crowd, immobile near exit 9, young couples and loud groups of friends bumping into him lightly as they go by. There’s always something interesting to do in Hongdae, loud pop music blasting out of trendy clothing shops and cafes, multicolored lights flashing loudly from the facade of noraebangs and clubs. The laughter mixes with the screams until they all sound the same in Jongin’s ears. It’s a common ambience in the metropolis, one Jongin knows without much being part of it. Kyungsoo stands in the middle of it all, just kind of there, blending in with the lot. His blue jeans are straight cut and his t-shirt is another shade of green compared to the day before. Jongin finds he doesn’t look otherworldly or even particularly special. He’s just another regular guy in Seoul, and this realization shakes Jongin with a strange pull of possessiveness.

Kyungsoo turns his way as if he knew.

" Hi " He says. Simple, still, and Jongin likes it because it’s directed at him. " Let’s go. "

Jongin isn’t adventurous, yet he follows Kyungsoo in a deep corner of Changcheondong until the boisterous laugh and shouts of the city subside.

" Here, follow me. " Kyungsoo whispers. He smiles like he’s up to something and Jongin follows. He watches Kyungsoo span over a barricade and climb up the emergency stairs of a towering apartment building.

" Is this where you live? "

" It’s not. Come on! " The stairs go up on the side of the complex to the rooftop, where it’s silent safe for the distant hum of the highway down below, somewhere not too far. The wind is stronger at that height, but the air is still warm. The sun is setting over the city, a sight Jongin has never seen in his entire life.

" Isn’t this trespassing? " He says without conviction.

" I guess? " Jongin looks down and Kyungsoo is sitting by the edge, legs dangling over the other side of the guard. He sits down too, resting his chin on his knees. The tip of his sneakers peeking over the edge is the most daring he feels he can be.

" What is this? An indie movie for troubled teenagers? "

Kyungsoo laughs, taking Jongin by surprise. It’s bright, honest. It’s simple like Kyungsoo has been from the start. Kyungsoo doesn’t look otherworldly even under the rays of the setting sun, but Jongin feels a bit more brave and shifts closer, his bare forearm touching Kyungsoo’s.

" Is green your favorite color? "

Kyungsoo laughs again. " No, not really. "

 

Eventually, the sun sets for good, but the city below their feet is still awake, bursting with the relentless energy of the seoulites, coming alive even more at night. Kyungsoo lies down, his legs hanging over the edge. He closes his eyes, his hands crossed over his stomach, the image strangely intimate to Jongin who’s still somewhat awkward with the whole situation.

He wants to touch Kyungsoo, desperately so. Instead, he lies down too, making sure the contact of their shoulders seems casual, and he refrains from extending his arm so their wrists would touch as well.

 

☀︎

 

When Jongin opens his eyes, the sun is up behind the high buildings of Seoul, and the sky is clear overhead. To his right, Kyungsoo has barely moved. He’s still lying down, his short fringe brushing his forehead with the wind, and his hand has reached out in his sleep until his knuckles are touching Jongin’s side over his shirt.

Kyungsoo wakes up a few minutes later, smiling and laughing lightly at Jongin’s confused expression. Jongin feels Kyungsoo’s fingers press further into his shirt before retreating, but he ignores the heat seeping through the fabric onto his skin. He ignores it, ignores it, ignores it. Kyungsoo offers to buy him breakfast since the unplanned night out had been his fault.

" I’ll just get a change of clothes first. " He says. Jongin needs one too but doesn’t mention it. They don’t talk much, and Jongin’s left stealing looks at the other man, who’s honestly so banal yet unfathomably unreal all at the same time, and it makes Jongin feel incredibly lucky to have found him, in a way.  
They walk to Kyungsoo’s apartment building, located not too far from there, and Jongin insists on waiting outside. It’s too awkward, and he needs to breathe for a moment.

He waits by the door, exhausted and nervous and confused. He wonders what day of the week it is, hoping he’s not missing yet another work shift. He wonders what is it with Kyungsoo that captivates him.

 

" Can I help you? "

The stranger looks young despite his height. He’s dressed fashionably as all Hongdae kids ought to be, intimidating in the way he seems to not care about anything; aloof, yet confident. Jongin’s convinced he doesn’t look _that_ much like crap, despite his black eye. It’s fading anyway, right? Hopefully when it’s gone people will stop randomly picking up conversations with him.

" What do you mean? "

" Do you need help with anything? "

" No… thanks? "

The guy looks at him intently.

" Are you sure? "

" Yes I’m sure, I don’t need anything, I’m just waiting for someone. Thank you though. "

" Okay then. Hum, yeah. Bye. " The stranger stares at him as he leaves.

 _Weird_ he thinks. Everything’s been a little weird recently.

 

☀︎

 

 **Yixing:**  
Hi Jongin  
I know it’s been hard the last few days, but you need to go out man. Call me.

 

Jongin gets home at ten thirty. His apartment’s completely empty for the first time in months, but what hurts is how everything’s in its place. Everything’s where it’s supposed to be, the walls are bare and the dishes are clean, neatly put away in the kitchen cupboards. Everything’s the same and it’s so unfair that Kyungsoo’s already gone before he even had to erase him. Maybe he could leave it at that, he thinks. Maybe they can just go their separate ways. Maybe he’ll be able to forget eventually. He could work more, or study more, or go out more. Take up dancing again, like when he was in high school. That would help, wouldn’t it?

He glances at the medication bottle on his nightstand. The label reads _Zopiclone. Take two tablets at exactly 11pm on day of appointment._

There’s no evading it. Jongin knows they’re already waiting outside the building. He saw a black van in the visitor’s parking lot and he knows it’s them.

 _This is it_ he thinks. He gets up, the two pills somehow cold in the palm of his hand. He pours himself a glass of water, gulping it down with the Zopiclone. Three steps toward his bed and he’s on the floor, asleep.

  

 

 

> _The show’s on, my friend! Let’s get to work!_

 

 

☀︎

 

" I don’t know what to do! " His throat hurts. He doesn’t yell this much, usually. Ever. Fuck.

" I was so sick of this fucking argument, Yixing! "

" I know. I know Jongin, but— "

" I was willing, you know? I wanted to fucking fix it like he should be doing too, but no! He’s always so damn stubborn, I fucking hate it! I hate it so much! "

" I know you hate it— "

" I tried to call him after texting him for two days, and realized, that— that— " He sits down next to Yixing on his friend’s couch, breathing in. In again. After a deep exhale, he can’t even yell anymore. He’s so tired and his voice is trembling.

" That asshole, he changed his phone number without telling me. So I go see him at work, right? I was prepared to face him. He’s there, behind the counter. Oh god, he looks so beautiful, Yixing. I forgot what I wanted to say. I just stand there, and he looks at me then, he sees me— "

 

" Can I help you, sir? " Kyungsoo says. His smile is calculated, and he looks irritated at everything and everyone. " Are you looking for a movie in particular? "

Jongin is struck in place just as Kyungsoo averts his eyes. A young man comes up to the counter, and Kyungsoo smiles, big and bright and _happy_.

" Sehun! What are you doing here? I’m busy! " He doesn’t sound annoyed at all, even a bit playful. It’s a good thing Jongin doesn’t see the guy’s face. He watches him lean over the counter and doesn’t miss their hands linking together. He wants to throw up.

" Just checking on you. " He hears the guy say. " I’ll pick the movie for tonight. "

" Alright. " Kyungsoo’s still smiling, and Jongin has to leave. _Now._

 

" Why would he do that to me? Did I deserve that? "

" I don’t think you did, Jongin. " Yixing says. His tone is cautious. " Take this as… as a sign? That it’s time for you both to go your own ways? Don’t fight for it if it only makes you sad, man. Is it worth it, at this point? "

" I… " Is it? Is it worth it?

They’re silent for a long time after that. Jongin cannot stop thinking no matter how much he wishes he could.

" Jongin, listen. " Yixing breaks the silence, voice unsure, like he’s weighting each word carefully. " I think… I think you should know this, after all. I didn’t want to tell you, but I don’t know what else to do. "

Jongin watches his friend stand up and disappear into his room, only to re-enter the living room a few seconds later, a yellow enveloppe in hand.

" I got this in the mail around three days ago… " He hands the enveloppe to Jongin. Inside, there’s nothing else but a small card with a few words printed on it.

 

_Dear Mr Zhang Yixing_

_**Do Kyungsoo** has had **Kim Jongin** erased from his memory.  
Please never mention their relationship to him again._

_Thank you._

 

The card is signed _EXOLOGY INC._ with an address.

" I mean, who even uses the mail nowadays? But I looked them up and… "

He reads it again.

 

  
_Dear Mr Zhang Yixing_

_has had **Kim Jongin** erased from his memory.  
Please never mention their relationship to him again._

_Thank you._

 

He blinks, blinks again, but the words are blurry.

" What the fuck is this? " He yells, straining his throat, and the itch makes him cough.  
He looks down at the address. Apgujeong-ro, Gangnam.

 

Should be around here.

He looks at the floor guide. _EXOLOGY INC. 9F_

The doorman is eyeing him curiously, probably because he still has that horrible black eye. It clashes with the neat and proper atmosphere of Gangnam. His beat up sneakers and hoodie likely don’t help either, but he doesn’t care much.

The elevator opens on the ninth floor to a single door with the words _EXOLOGY INC._ printed just big enough to be noticed. The door leads to a waiting room with a few chairs. An old man is sleeping in a corner near the window, and a guy in a white coat, possibly younger than him, is sitting behind a desk, earpiece on and a big planner open over a pile of folders.

" No, unfortunately we’re full for the next two months… I know… I’m sorry sir but… I understand… Let me schedule you on… the… 4th. Is that okay? Alright. Yes. We’ll call you back. Can I help you? "

The receptionist doesn’t look up from his planner. Behind him, small cards are coming out of the printer, and he reaches over for the pile and starts stacking them in yellow envelopes.

" I have an appointment with hum— "

" Doctor Kim, yes. Please fill out the form and wait a moment, thank you. Exology, how can I help you? Of course Ma’am. It’s been approved today. You can come in tomorrow at two. We’ll see you soon. "

The walls are an ugly beige and the magazine on the table there dates back to 2002. The chair he sits on is made of plastic and one of the legs is wobbly. Christ. What kind of place is this? Is this really the richest neighborhood of Seoul?

" Sir? " It’s the receptionist. " Follow me. " They pass a series of corridors lined with framed photographs of various people smiling. " All clients. " the receptionist informs him. Promising. Their steps are muffled by the old greying carpeted floor. Everything in this place looks off in a way or another.

" I’m winning this round, Byun! That geezer’s been asleep on his chair for 46 hours! Only two more and it’s on you! "

" Shut the fuck up, Chanyeol. " The receptionist hisses. A tall man dressed in the same white coat rounds the corner and the receptionist slaps his palm on the man’s mouth. He looks over his shoulder at Jongin. " I’m sorry, sir. "

" Sorry. " The tall guy says between the receptionist’s fingers. " Sorry, Baekhyun. " Jongin can see the guy’s smile widen behind the receptionist’s hand. " I’m still winning though. In two hours you owe me what we talked about. " He adds in a low voice, but it’s not subtle at all and Baekhyun kicks him on the shin. At the end of the corridor, a closed door with a frosted glass window and another one, plain. Baekhyun knocks on the first one respectfully and enters, Jongin in tow.

" You shouldn’t have seen this card. I’m sorry, Mister… "

" Kim. Jongin. "

" My apologies, Mister Kim. " The man says. He’s young, too. Jongin briefly wonders how old this damn company is. He’s wearing the same white coat, but he seems more important. His nameplate reads _Doctor Kim Joonmyun_.

" You’re all impostors, right? This is a real fucking bad joke. "

" It’s not, sir. "

" It’s not. " Baekhyun adds, before leaving the office and closing the door behind himself, already answering his earpiece as he walks away.

" I can’t provide any proof as our records are confidential. But it’s true. It appears that— " Doctor Kim glances down at the folder in front of him. " Mister… Do, wasn’t happy, and wanted to erase the source of his pain. Move on, as they say. We, at Exology, provide that possibility. "

 

" We, at Exology, provide that possibility. What the hell does this mean? "

" I don’t know either, man. I thought it was a hoax at first, too. " Yixing says. Jongin watches him struggle to put his ankle behind his neck, following the demonstration of a yoga guru on television. " It’s probably legit, at this point, though. "

" Why would he even go to this extent? Why would he— " Why? Why would Kyungsoo want to forget him that badly?

Yixing gives up on the position, sitting straight and stretching his back. " You know how Kyungsoo is. Stubborn and all. He might have done it just to prove he was right, or something. "

To prove he was right? _Fuck him._ Jongin thinks. He walks up to the door and slams it with all his strength as he leaves his friend’s dorm room.

" Shit. " He ignores how his cheeks are wet from tears, how his head hurts. The bruise on his face still aches when he touches it.

 

" You’ll have to come back, Mister Kim. We’re extremely busy and you need an appointment, you can’t just— "

" I don’t give a fuck, I need to see Joonmyun now! "

" Sir, he’s with a client, please follow me back to the reception, sir— "

" What’s going on here? " Doctor Kim opens the door to his office, his features softening when he sees Jongin.

" I want the damn procedure today! "

" I’m so sorry, doctor, he just barged in and wouldn’t listen— "

" It’s alright, Baekhyun. Mister Kim, please calm down, I’ll be right with you. "

" But doctor, there are people waiting— "

"  _Thank you_ Baekhyun, " The man effectively ends the argument. " if you would kindly see Madam Lee out the door, Baekhyun. " An old woman emerges from the doctor’s office with small steps. She’s whimpering and clutching an antique doll to her chest. Baekhyun nods, holding her elbow as he guides her down the corridor. " There. Thank you, Baekhyun. Mister Kim, please sit down. " He gestures inside the office, welcoming Jongin in warmly. Jongin wants to hate him and all the people in this crazy clinic, but the doctor’s smile is disarming. A great business asset.

" The first step, Mister Kim, " Joonmyun says as he sits behind his desk. " is to go home, and gather everything you can find that has any connection to Do Kyungsoo. "

That’s his favorite shirt, though. It’s so soft.

" Everything. "

He throws it in a large garbage bag on top of other shirts, some socks. A pair of pants Kyungsoo had gifted him. He removes the posters on the walls of his living-bedroom. Posters of Kyungsoo’s favorite movies, most of them Jongin isn’t sure he’s seen himself; Matsumoto’s Funeral Parade of Roses, Gilliam’s Brazil. Peter Weir’s The Truman Show; he remembers that one kind of. He rips them all off the wall and puts them into the bag.

" These items will serve to create an emotional map of Kyungsoo in your brain. We’ll need things like clothes, "

He rips off the photobooth pictures of them from his fridge, and looking attentively, he throws out the magnets too, and the memos stuck to the side of the fridge and on the cabinets.

" photos, gifts, "

He lifts the entire pile of DVDs beside the desk that holds the TV and the DVD player, leaving out the Godfather trilogy that his dad had gifted him some time ago, and places it in a new plastic bag.

" objects that belonged to him or that you bought together. "

He picks up all the notebooks on the kitchen table, the heaps of storyboard papers, sketches, sticky notes with point-form lists of ideas Kyungsoo had forgotten there. So many things Jongin had been too scared to touch, because it would really mean the end. Kyungsoo’s presence in his life remained through the cluster of objects he’d left behind.

" You want to empty your home, and thus your life, of Kyungsoo. "

There’s the video camera, too. He inspects its state, blowing off the thin layer of dust covering it. After deliberation, he wraps it carefully in a bag and puts it with the rest.

" After the mapping is done, our technicians will proceed with the erasing, in the comfort of your home, tonight. When you wake up tomorrow, you’ll find yourself in your bed, as if you’d never even met him. You’ll be ready to start a new, well deserved life. You’ll be able to move on. "

The doorman peers at him again as he almost runs through the automatic doors, dragging two large garbage bags and balancing a third one under his arm. When he finally reaches Exology’s office, he collapses on a chair in the waiting room. The old man near the window wakes up at the commotion, clears his throat loudly, looks around, and goes back to sleep. At the other end of the room, a young woman is sitting with a box filled with plastic toys and ruined dolls. A bowl displaying the word _Candy_ sits on top.

" I’m so sorry Ma’am. It’s— it’s our policy. No, you can’t have the procedure done three times in a month. You’re back, Mister Kim! " Baekhyun looks at him and waves, as if they weren’t at each other’s necks a couple hours prior. Jongin smiles, just to be polite, but the receptionist is already back to his planner. " I’m sure it’s an emergency. Well— we could try to fit you at the end of July… "

" Mister Kim! " Joonmyun appears from the hallway, a wide, inviting smile on his face. Jongin nods as a way of greeting, feeling bad about the ruckus he caused earlier in the day.

He follows the doctor down the corridor and they reach his office just as the other door slams open. The tall man from the other day walks out, and behind him Jongin catches the sight of an elderly man strapped to a bizarre chair, tears streaks on his cheeks and mouth open in a silent cry.

" That guy’s good, going great. I’ll be done in a few minutes. "

" Thank you, Chanyeol. Mister Kim, this is our technician, Park Chanyeol. Chanyeol this is Kim Jongin, your patient for tonight. "

" Hey man, sorry about the other day. Let’s work well together! " He says with a laugh, showing all his teeth. He grabs Jongin’s hand and shakes it hard.

" Sure, hum, yeah, likewise. " Jongin answers, uncertain if Chanyeol’s being serious.

As he completes the few protocol checkups in his office, Joonmyun briefly explains to Jongin the basic rundown of the operation. Most of it goes over his head, but what he gets is that it’s similar to a chain reaction; the emotional core of the memory is destroyed and with it all associated memories collapse as well.

" Is there any risk of brain damage? " Jongin asks, just as a precaution.

Joonmyun’s face falls, and it’s the first time he doesn’t appear completely sure of himself. Not a good sign.

" Well, technically speaking… the entire process _is_ brain damage. " The doctor answers with thoughtfully chosen words. " It’s nothing to fret over, though, no worries. Kind of like a hard night drinking. Nothing you’ll miss. " He takes out an old recorder and sets it on his desk, in full sight. Jongin looks at it with uneasiness. The little red light glares at him, reminding him of that one Kubrick movie Kyungsoo had showed him. The one in space, with the monkeys and stuff. It’s bone chilling.

" My name is Kim Jongin, 23 years old, and I’m here to erase Do Kyungsoo. " He follows the script. The doctor explains it serves as a sort of indemnification against lawsuits and any possible problems and that could arise from the process, which, he thinks, is legitimate enough.

" Tell me about Kyungsoo, Jongin. How did you meet him? "

He looks down at his hands, realizing thinking about it doesn’t hurt. He’s too angry, he’s over it. He’s over Kyungsoo. He doesn’t regret doing this.

" It was a little over a year ago. I used to be part of a dance group, back in high school, but I quit eventually. My close friend Yixing never stopped though, and he takes part in lots of dance and talent shows around the country. There’s this one event he and his crew were the frontrunners for, but he needed a sub and I went to help him out.

The venue was in Daejeon, on the outskirts of the busier part of the city, and I met Kyungsoo there. He was in charge of documenting the night for the producers. Film the thing, interview a couple people, put together some cuts of people singing and dancing, you know? Movies, documentaries, acting; he’s into all that stuff. "

The interview takes about a good fifteen minutes, after which Jongin is led into the other room where the technician, Chanyeol, is working on the machines and computers scattered all around the operation chair. As Jongin sits down, Joonmyun lowers a metallic circular helmet-like structure over his head.

A knock on the door echoes in his ears. The door opens and the doctor reaches out for a large box. " Thank you Sehun. " He hears. He doesn’t see the guy’s face. " That’s our intern, Sehun. He works really hard. A good kid. " Joonmyun says. Okay. Jongin doesn’t know where to look. " He’s an annoying fuck. " He hears Chanyeol say. " Don’t be like that. He’s full of good intentions. " " Whatever. "

" Alright. So we’re just tracing the map here. I’ll show you different items you brought us and all you have to do is reminisce on them. Shut up and think is what I mean. Let’s get started. " Chanyeol traces some lines over his temples and forehead.

" We’ll dispose of all that junk after we’re done. " Joonmyun adds with a good natured smile. " Just in case. "

" What do we do with his black eye there, doc? Isn’t he gonna freak out tomorrow when he sees it? "

" It’s nothing serious. He’ll probably assume he got it while partying, which isn’t far from the truth. All kids these days drink and get into fights, it’s not that hard to believe. "

Chanyeol laughs. " You speak as if you’re fifty. "

Jongin feels his palm sweating on the armrests. His head feels heavy and his vision is tunnelling, as if he’s slowly being removed from the scene. The voices he hears all sound far away, muffled like he’s listening from the other side of a door.

" First item. " Chanyeol says. A ticket for a Jeju-do ferry ride. Oh yeah.

" Okaaayyy second item. " A small trophy for a dance contest.

" Great, now third item. " A poster for a movie premiere.

" Great, now third item. " A poster for a movie premiere. That was when—

" You’re doing great— "

The room is getting warmer and warmer, and it’s hard to breathe. The voices are getting mixed up, an incessant beeping growing louder and louder and louder— 

 

 

 

> _What the fuck, I told you to go slow! You’re gonna roast his brain!_
> 
> _S— Sorry_
> 
> _Just— just turn the dial slowly…_

 

" …done three times in a month. You’re back, Mister Kim! " It’s Baekhyun, welcoming him. He sits down and the old man leaning on the window wakes up with a start. He stands up and makes his way to the doctor’s office. Empty. _Weird_. He walks to the operation room.

" You’re there! I thought we were gonna do the mapping today. " He says to Joonmyun but the man doesn’t look at him. " Doctor Kim? "

" We’ll dispose of all that junk after we’re done. Just in case. "

" You already told me that— " He looks at the chair but he’s already sitting. Oh, right. They already did the mapping. It went well, better than he thought it would.

" You’re back, Mister Kim! " He turns around and Baekhyun smiles at him, sitting in a corner of the room, behind the reception counter. Behind him, the printer is still producing the small cards. Baekhyun’s a good guy, Jongin thinks. He doesn’t seem to be mad about earlier.

The door opens and he sees himself walk into the room. " You’re there! " He hears himself say.

" Doctor? What’s going on? " His heart is beating too fast. " Doctor? " This isn’t normal. He’s having a hard time breathing again. Was the operation room this small before? He feels his heart pumping into his head—

 

 

 

> _For fuck’s sake Sehun! I said slow! His heartbeat’s all over the charts!_
> 
> _I did it like you told me!_
> 
> _Don’t touch anything for now—_

 

" Sehun " _Sehun_. Where did he hear that name before?

 

His phone vibrates on his bed, the buzz muted by the covers.

 

 **Kyungsoo:**  
Are yuo comng

 

He looks at the previous text, sent a couple hours prior.

 

 **Kyungsoo:**  
There’s a party at Jongdae’s to celebrate the end of the semester. I know you still have exams but you should take a break. It’s at 10.

 

Someone bumps into him, beer spilling on his white t-shirt. The music sucks and the bass reverberates inside his skull. Jongin fucking hates parties. In the kitchen, Kyungsoo’s leaning against the counter, a beer in hand. Minseok and Jongdae are there too, but the music’s too loud for Jongin to hear anything they’re saying. Kyungsoo looks up at him and smiles, his eyes forming crescents. He’s beautiful, with his shorter hair. He’d gotten it cut the day before, but they hadn’t seen each other until then. Jongin wants to kiss him, and feel Kyungsoo’s fingers pressing into his waist.

_Ah. That’s the last time I saw you._

" Jongin! " Kyungsoo’s voice is slightly slurred, and despite his discomfort, Jongin smiles back.

" Guys, this is Jongin. " _They know_. He thinks. _We saw each other once before._

" He’s— "

There’s a moment of hesitation, but from an outsider’s point of view it could appear as a drunk’s attempt at organizing his thoughts. Jongin knows it’s not. The same thing happens all the time, even when there isn’t any alcohol involved.

" He’s my good friend. Jongin this is…. Minseok and Jongdae, my partners from school. " _I know_. Kyungsoo leans on him, his hand on Jongin’s shoulder. Jongin hates it.

" Don’t touch me. "

" What? " Kyungsoo’s head snaps up. " What the fuck’s your problem? "

The door slams behind him. It’s always the same story.

" _He’s my good friend_? Really? " Kyungsoo follows him into the living room, and throws himself on the sofa-bed. Without the music and the chatter and the whole set-up, Kyungsoo just looks ridiculous, slurring and stepping on his own feet. Jongin is tired.

" Calm down, Jongin. Y’know I don’t… mean it… let it go… " Kyungsoo says into the pillow.

" Look at me! " He yells and Kyungsoo jumps in surprise, eyes wide.

" I’m fucking tired of going along with whatever you want! I’m tired of you shoving me to the side and taking me back whenever you feel like it! "

" You can’t say that! " Kyungsoo screams back. His words aren’t slurred anymore. He stands up and even though Jongin’s much taller, he feels so, so small. He’d always feel smaller next to Kyungsoo.

" You can’t tell me what to do! You agreed! You’re breaking your promise! "

" I don’t give a fuck! " Jongin screams, his voice breaks. " You’re a selfish asshole! Everyone always has to do everything you want but I’m fucking sick of it! "

Kyungsoo walks up to him and he doesn’t falter in his step, doesn’t hesitate a moment before punching Jongin straight in the face. The impact has him stumble and fall on his back in the hallway. Kyungsoo’s eyes are wide as he looks at him.

" Get out! " Kyungsoo flinches as Jongin holds his bruised face in his hand, screaming for him to leave. " I don’t want to fucking see you again! "

" Jongin— "

  

 

 

> _Got it! Aaaand It’s gone._

 

The lights go off. When Jongin turns around, the sofa-bed disappears.

" Fine! " He hears at the end of the hallway, the door slamming shut again.

" Kyungsoo! " Shit. Shit shit shit. He didn’t really mean it. " Wait! " It didn’t hurt that much. It didn’t.

The door isn’t there. He turns around but his apartment’s empty. He watches the furniture vanish one by one. Overhead, familiar voices resound on the walls and ceiling.

  

 

 

> _Hey, Chanyeol?_
> 
> _What. I’m trying to work here_
> 
> _You know how I’m seeing someone right now…_
> 
> _I don’t really care, Sehun_
> 
> _Well it’s just that… our situation’s kinda weird you know and—_

 

He hears someone laugh.

 

 

 

> _I’m sure it is_

 

" Hey! What the hell is going on? "

 

 

 

> _You know that guy we erased the other night? That short guy with thick eyebrows?_
> 
> _Wa— wait. That guy’s guy? What about him?_
> 
> _I kinda fell in love with him that night and—_

 

" Jongin! Come sit down already, the movie’s starting! " Kyungsoo waves him over from the sofa-bed. His hair is a mess, all tangled and it looks so soft. Jongin loves Kyungsoo’s longer hair, but Kyungsoo doesn’t. It’s a pain to take care of and just plain unpractical, yet he never takes the time to get it trimmed. He’s wearing Jongin’s university sweater and most probably boxers under the blanket.

_Cute._

" Kyungsoo, I think someone broke in. They’re stalking you. "

  

 

 

> _Holy shit, are you for real right now?_
> 
> _W— what? Why?_
> 
> _The guy was unconscious man, that’s fucked up!_

 

" They saw you while you were sleeping! " Jongin looks up at the ceiling, panicked.

" Mh? I don’t see anyone. You’re missing the beginning, come on! "

 

 

 

> _So I went to his workplace, that shady video rental joint in Hongdae —you know the one that’s near the Playground?— like, the day after, and asked him out super smoothly. I don’t know why but he called me an hour later_
> 
> _That's fucking creepy dude, but at the same time it’s hilarious_
> 
> _You think so? I don’t know, it seems fine… we’ve been seeing each other for a few days now. He’s seriously great, and like, his skin is so soft and—_
> 
> _Oh my god Sehun, shut the fuck up. I don’t wanna know that shit! Jesus!_

 

Sehun…

 

The walls of his apartment start to crack, the paint flacking into fragments littering the floor. All of a sudden it’s too bright. The sky is clear, neon blue when Jongin looks up. Kyungsoo gets up from the sofa bed. He’s wearing jeans and Jongin’s grey sweater, and his hair is a bit shorter, though it’s still long enough for him to pass his hand through his fringe and push it back in annoyance.

Jongin looks at Kyungsoo’s hand, not daring to reach out and hold it as they walk around in some part of Seoul Jongin doesn’t remember. It’s a long awaited shared day off. If only he could touch Kyungsoo a bit more. If only they could be a bit closer.

Jongin looks up at Kyungsoo’s face. His eyebrows are scrunched up in a concentrated frown, lost in thought. _God,_ Jongin thinks. _I love him._

It’s so simple.

Their surroundings are blurry, vague. Jongin doesn’t remember if they were in Sillim, at that time, or maybe Sinchon, after getting lunch. Nothing’s important in that moment besides Kyungsoo’s body close but not enough, Kyungsoo’s deep eyes and full lips and the way the sweater falls on his shoulders. It’s all he could memorize. Before he can notice himself moving, he feels the material of the sweater under his fingers, the curve of Kyungsoo’s back as he runs his hand briefly over it.

Kyungsoo flinches and turns his way, still frowning but this time at him, and it hurts. " Sorry " He says, but Kyungsoo says nothing, and looks back ahead. Jongin never adverts his eyes from Kyungsoo’s face.

They continue to walk, a dark fog thickening like smoke until the blue sky drowns in it and all he can see is black and Kyungsoo. Something changed in the air, as if the haze around them shifted on its own.

" Why did you say that? " He hears himself say.

" That’s how it is, Jongin! I’m sure you can understand, right? You’re smart enough to get it, Jongin! "

" It can’t be like this forever, though! It can’t! One day you’re gonna have to suck it up and just— "

" Stop fucking thinking like a child! " Jongin shuts his eyes, holding his breath. He hates when Kyungsoo screams, because he doesn’t want to scream at Kyungsoo in return.

" Who the fuck cares! Nobody! I’m fucking done with this! "

" You’re done? " Kyungsoo screams back. _No_ he thinks. _I’m not. Wait. Wait._ " Great! "

" I’m done, Do Kyungsoo! "

He stops walking and watches Kyungsoo storm away until the fog absorbs him too.

A ring echoes deep into the shadows, breaking the silence.

 

 

 

> _Hang on, I gotta get this._
> 
> _Can we_ please _focus here? You can talk to your cute stolen boyfriend tomorrow_
> 
> _It’s important Chanyeol just a minute_
> 
> _For fuck’s sake, we have a long night ahead of us I’m not joking_
> 
> _Hello? Soo? Are you okay? It’s like 2am_

 

" Who’s that? Why does he call you Soo? I’m the only one who can— "

The black fog dissipates on the ground in front of him, revealing a few stairs leading to a door. Kyungsoo’s voice echoes everywhere at the same time, but it’s grainy, like it’s coming out of a receiver, and the other voices are louder

 

 

 

> _Sorry I— I’m not feeling well I didn’t know who else to call_
> 
> _Hey, it’s fine. What’s up?_
> 
> _I’m so confused, I don’t know, I don’t know what’s happening. Am I annoying? Are you sick of me? I’m sorry I’m imposing so much on you_
> 
> _No, no, not at all. I don’t mind okay?_
> 
> _I keep thinking I’m forgetting something. Sehun I—_
> 
> _Breathe, Soo, you’re fine, I can— Hey Chanyeol, do you mind if I leave for a moment he really needs me_
> 
> _Christ Sehun, we’re in the middle of erasing this damn guy’s—_
> 
> _I’ll be right there Soo, just, hang on okay?_

 

Jongin chases after Kyungsoo’s voice as it recedes slowly into a whisper. He opens the door at the end of the stairs.

Kyungsoo’s standing behind the cash register, the neon colored lights reflected on his face. He looks bored and slightly irritated. A television fixed to the ceiling plays an old Park Kwangsu film on mute, the same ten seconds looping endlessly. This time Jongin doesn’t falter in his step, and the sight of Kyungsoo doesn’t paralyze him. He moves toward the counter just as a young man walks in—

" Sehun! " Kyungsoo smiles like he doesn’t see Jongin right in front of him.

 _Sehun. That’s him._ " Hey! " Jongin tries to grab the guy by the shoulder but he doesn’t budge. " Who the fuck— "

He shoves him but when the guy turns his way there’s no face to match the name. " Just checking on you. " The face says, the words coming out of Jongin’s head instead of where the guy’s mouth should be. " I’ll pick the movie for tonight. "

He sees their fingers intertwining and the smile on Kyungsoo’s face scares him more than anything else he knows. He has to go. _Now._

He runs to the door just as the television screen blinks and the image dies, the lights turning off one after the other drowning Kyungsoo and Sehun and everything around him in darkness.

He can’t feel the doorknob when he extends his hand, it’s so dark he’s not sure if his eyes are open or closed.

_Kyungsoo._

_I wish I—_

" Jongin. " He really did have his eyes shut. He smiles lazily, obstinate to not open them just yet, feeling the bedsheets under his fingers, concentrating on the soft rustling of the blankets and the sounds of life outside, way out of his reach. An arm slides across his chest until a hand comes to caress his cheek, brushing over his forehead and pushing back his hair. " Jongin. " The voice is deep and rich, smooth like water flowing over his skin. He shivers when a body presses closer to his, a warm breath fanning against his neck and then over the side of his face, lips pressing on the shell of his ear, on his temple, on his forehead.

He lifts his hand so it rests on Kyungsoo’s neck, massaging the skin there until he hears a low hum of satisfaction. He turns on his side, finally opening his eyes, bringing his hand lower so it slides over Kyungsoo’s waist and rests on his hips, fingers gently pressing into the skin there. However, there’s a frown on Kyungsoo’s face when their eyes meet.

" Soo? Are you okay? " He looks so _scared_ , and it scares Jongin just as much because Kyungsoo almost never lets himself appear vulnerable. He holds his face in his hands, gently, and looks into Kyungsoo’s eyes. " Tell me. "

" Are you tired of me? "

" What? "

" Aren’t you sick of hiding yourself because of me? I know I’m nothing much, I’m just a regular guy who makes crappy low budget movies and can’t even accept who he is, I’m a coward and I’m sorry I keep holding you back— "

" Hey… hey… No, you’re not, okay? That’s not true. " He presses closer to Kyungsoo, circling his arms behind the man’s back until he feels him exhale into his neck, until he feels they can’t humanly get closer than this. It’s warm, and Jongin tightens his hold to stop Kyungsoo from trembling. He’s not sure what to say, since Kyungsoo’s always been the strong one of the two, unwavering and confident. He closes his eyes and breathes in, the smell of Kyungsoo’s hair and skin heavy around him.

" It’s okay, you know? I— I don’t mind. I understand how hard it is. I get it. Don’t worry about me. "

" I’m sorry, Jongin. I’m sorry. " He can’t bear to hear the waver in Kyungsoo’s voice, so he tries to stop it with a kiss that turns into two, maybe three.

" It’s fine. It’s fine, Soo. I’m here. "

" Don’t— " His voice breaks, but Jongin kisses him again. " Don’t leave me, Jongin. Don’t ever leave me. "

Jongin rolls them over so he’s on top, his grip on the other’s sides loosening, his hands traveling down soft skin then up again, their fingers finding each other, interlacing tightly as if they belong this way. Jongin comes down just as Kyungsoo lifts his head, and they kiss deeper, slow and heavy, their breaths hot into each other’s mouths.

Jongin blinks and Kyungsoo’s clothes have vanished, the other’s fingers already pulling on the elastic of his boxers. He blinks again and his boxers are gone, and he presses against Kyungsoo to feel every inch of his skin on his, to feel legs winding tightly around his back and the brush of a stomach against his own as he exhales. It’s heaven on earth just with this, his lips on the other’s jaw, throat, down his neck and his collarbones, with Kyungsoo’s fingers stroking his nape and his hair tenderly, communicating through touch instead of words.

" I’ll never leave you. " Jongin promises into the skin of Kyungsoo’s stomach, when he can’t stop the words anymore, and Kyungsoo’s fingers press a bit harder into his scalp in response.

He presses his lips to Kyungsoo's thighs, biting the skin just hard enough, drinking in the gasps spilling out of Kyungsoo’s mouth, and just as Kyungsoo tries to pull his head where he needs it, he draws a last bruise a bit higher and detaches himself, reaching out for Kyungsoo’s lips again, never satiated, never getting enough of the feeling of the other’s bottom lip between his. The room around them is vague, the limits and boundaries undefined, the colors blending into one another. The sounds are amplified; the click of the bottle as he opens its lid, the rustle of the sheets, the creak of the old sofa-bed supporting them. Kyungsoo’s moans resound even louder, mixed in with the thousand colors of the comforter and the indistinguishable posters hanging on the walls, words and faces swimming over them like carried by the wind of a hurricane. Jongin’s fingers slide out of Kyungsoo’s body languidly, pressing and gripping the skin of his thighs, over the bruises he created on the other man just moments prior.

It’s Kyungsoo that runs his hands down Jongin’s back to press on his ass, guiding Jongin into himself until Jongin is absolutely certain he could faint. He leans down and kisses Kyungsoo’s temple, keeping his face flush against the skin there, trying to control his breathing as Kyungsoo shifts his hips under him, his vision flashing white.

Their movements synchronise without effort. Jongin knows when to thrust harder or slower, knows when to snake a hand down to touch Kyungsoo just as the other’s breath catches in his throat and his own heart skips.

He only hears Kyungsoo whimper as if he was in pain, but it transforms into a drawn out moan, low and strained and beautiful, and then everything whites out, the pleasure so overwhelming it overcomes all his senses for a moment.

" Jongin. " He hears Kyungsoo call out with a long exhale. In this instant, he’s convinced he was born to hear Kyungsoo say his name, to feel Kyungsoo’s hands on his bare skin and Kyungsoo’s skin under his own.

" Kyungsoo. " He answers, and it means everything.

 

  

 

> _Soo_

 

" Soo? " _Wait._ " Why did he call you that? You don’t let anyone call you by a nickname, it’s always only been me! Soo! "

" What are you talking about, Jongin? Who? "

" Him! "

 

The wind picks up, cold, rising goosebumps out of Jongin as he rolls on his back, facing the cloudless night sky. The wind catches in the bedsheets and carries them away, leaving the two of them laying on bare asphalt. Kyungsoo’s wearing the big grey Vancouver hoodie they bought together in Myeongdong. It’s too big on him and it’s Jongin’s favorite, but Kyungsoo’s been wearing it almost every day since the temperature dropped. They’re out on the rooftop of an apartment building that towers over most of the nearby constructions. Kyungsoo had found it while on location hunt for a project, like many places they’d visited over time. " What’s this for, an indie movie for troubled teenagers? " Jongin had asked, and Kyungsoo had laughed.

He has Kyungsoo pillowed on his arm, flush against his side, and he feels cold hands snake under his sweater, making him flinch instantly.

" Sorry. " Kyungsoo says, but Jongin can see the lopsided smile on the other’s face from the corner of his eye. He squeezes Kyungsoo’s form tighter in response.

" I saw a really interesting documentary the other day. "

" Mmmh? What was it? "

" They were talking about the human senses, like touch, hearing, sight, all of these. It wasn’t really scientific though, more like… like philosophy? "

Jongin rests his cheek into Kyungsoo's hair, nodding.

" They explained that the world can only be as we perceive it, limited by these senses, but there’s probably many things that go unnoticed because we lack the senses that could detect them. "

" That’s scary. Like we’re not seeing the world as it actually is? "

" Kind of. And we’d never know. Think about it; the world is constantly changing, but we’re never aware. Every time we close our eyes, we’re looking at something new. With each blink, the world transforms. "

Jongin thinks about what Kyungsoo said for a while. Looking at the sky, he blinks and blinks trying to find the change, the detail that’s off, but it all looks the same. He can’t see it, but he thinks he understands what it means.

" It made me think of my favorite poem. "

" What is it? You don’t even read. "

" I never told you about it? And I _do_ read. Just, when I have the time. " Jongin feels a light shove into his ribs. Kyungsoo generally hates reading, so a favorite poem is definitely unexpected.

" _How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot, the world forgetting, by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! Each prayer accepted, and each wish resigned._  "

And suddenly it’s not the weak light of the stars he sees, but Kyungsoo’s smiling face over his. He leans down and kisses Jongin on the lips, his hands still balled into fists under Jongin’s sweater unfolding and pressing into Jongin’s skin lightly.

" I love you, Kyungsoo. " Jongin says without breaking appart more than an inch.

When Kyungsoo opens his mouth, he hears a dial tone resonate instead of words. The wind picks up around them, cold and merciless.

  

 

 

> _Hey Baek, it’s me. Wanna come over? Sehun bailed to go see his boyfriend. I know! Yeah I don’t think so either, probably like two weeks more at most. Anyway you already know the guy’s address right?_

 

The wind only gets stronger, and despite his attempt at keeping Kyungsoo close to himself, it infiltrates in between their clothes and blows around them, his grip on the other man loosening. All the lights in Seoul go out at the same time, it’s so dark he can’t even see in front of him, and the wind, intertwined with the void engulfing them, breathes Kyungsoo in until he, too, disappears.

" Kyungsoo! " He screams at the dark, at the voice overhead that echoes everywhere at the same time.

As Jongin stands there, alone on the concrete ground of a place he can’t totally seem to recall, he knows he made the worst mistake he could’ve ever made in his life.

" I wanna call it off! " He screams, hoping somehow the voices, the people over there will hear. " I don’t want to do this anymore! "

 

  

 

> _Yeah it’s going great. No honestly I’m doing better on my own, it’s just boring here with only me and the sleeping guy, so… I’m serious! Okay okay, see you in a bit. Ye— … Yeah bye._

 

" Hey! Can you hear me? I said I wanna call it off! "

 _I’m going to forget_ , Jongin realizes then. It hits him like the wind that had wiped off everything earlier, cutting off the oxygen in his lungs. His heart weighs a ton in his chest. _No. No. I can’t. I have to—_

" Kyungsoo! " He tries again, as loud as he can, when a flash suddenly emerges from the dark, and he sees Kyungsoo standing under it, like illuminated by stage lights.

Jongin runs to him as fast as he can, his steps echoing in the dark, his shoes clacking loudly on an invisible marble floor.

" We have to run! " He pulls Kyungsoo by the hand, and a step takes him back on the rooftop, all the Seoul lights coming back to life at once, just a bit off, scattered over them and under their feet as Jongin pulls Kyungsoo by the hand, running to the opposite side of the building. " I might— I might know how to stop this. We have to hurry, Kyungsoo! "

But Kyungsoo isn’t cooperating, pulling on his wrist. " What? Stop what? Jongin calm down! "

" No! I can’t! " He turns to face Kyungsoo, holding his face in his hands for just a moment. " I can’t erase you. I made a mistake. " He starts to run again, pulling Kyungsoo with him. " There’s this— this recorder in doctor Kim’s office. We have to find it! "

There’s a door in front of them, and as Jongin twists the doorknob and enters, Kyungsoo shoves him against the wall. There’s lips on his and his own fingers are reaching dangerously low down Kyungsoo’s bare back.  
He grips the man by the waist, pushing him away.

" Wait, Kyungsoo, focus! "

" But you looked so good that day, I want to— "

He reaches for the hem of Jongin’s shirt but is stopped when a hand grabs his wrist and Jongin starts running again. They pass one, two, three times through Jongin’s small kitchen and then Kyungsoo’s sitting down at the small table in the middle of the room, drowning in draft papers and cellophanes and rolls of film.

" Jongin, I can’t find my script! " He exclaims in panic, rummaging through the mess. " It’s due today! I’m dead! "

" No, not this. Focus! "

They enter a wide room filled with people in formal wear. Besides him, Kyungsoo’s wearing the only suit he owns, deep black on black. It fit so well, and his hair was pushed back. Jongin is distracted for a moment.

" That’s when Jongdae and I’s short film won first place! " Kyungsoo’s eyes shine with pride, and Jongin wants to relive this for a while longer.

" I was so proud of you. I still am. " Jongin says, caught in the memory. Kyungsoo always works so hard, and when his efforts had payed off that night, he’d felt it like his own success.

 

" Tell me about Kyungsoo, Jongin. How did you meet him? " The doctor’s voice echoes. _That’s it. This one._

 

" Kyungsoo, we gotta go! " He grabs the man’s wrist again, pushing on people standing in their way, the path unclear in Jongin’s head. Past another door to the left of the hall, a pitch black corridor. He feels the carpet under his feet, and the wide smiles framed on the wall start to appear one by one, leading to an elevator door. He presses the up button and the doors open on a dimly lit office, the doctor sitting down at his desk.

" Joonmyun! I need you to stop all of this! I want out! "

The doctor looks straight in front of him. Jongin sees himself sitting on a chair, but there’s no recorder in sight.

" Mister Kim, I thought you understood the implications of this procedure. It’s too late to back out now. "

" No! no, you’re— I know what’s going on. There are people with me right now. I’m in my brain. I’m sleeping and they’re there, It’s your employees. One of them is trying to steal Kyungsoo, he went trough my stuff, he calls him by his nickname and fucking watched him sleep! " He’s looking at himself and back to Joonmyun. And then he’s sitting and the doctor turns to his other self standing by the desk.

" I’m sorry Mister Kim, but I’m inside your head too. I’m _you_. How can I possibly help you? "

A knock on the door. Jongin opens it, a vague silhouette without a face greeting him.

" Thank you Sehun. "

Only the silhouette’s hands are defined, handing an empty box to the doctor without a word.

" Who the fuck is this? "

" That’s our. Intern. Seeeee— huuuunnnnn. What are you doing heeeere? I’m buuuuu— syyyyyy. "

" That’s him! " Jongin screams, trying to grab the silhouette just at it vanishes in the dark of the corridor. " He’s stealing Kyungsoo! I can’t forget! I can’t forget! "

He stands up from the chair, shoving aside his other self to go after the shadow. He runs down the corridor to a door, pushes it open only to step into the doctor’s office again. Looking back behind him, a stream of light shines at the end of the corridor. He turns on his heels, running towards the light. The quiet hum of the sea floats in the distance.

" Kyungsoo! " Jongin calls out, trying to find the man he loves in the memory. The sky is pale blue, the air humid but fresh on the skin of his arms and his neck. He adjusts his cap so the visor shades his eyes better. A field of delicate yellow flowers spreads all around him, and the sea stretches along the horizon.

" This is incredible. " He hears Kyungsoo say, his voice pleasant like the sound of the waves filling his head.

He looks around him, searching for a building, a house, anything, but it’s just them among the canola flowers.

Kyungsoo has his camera in hand, filming the scenery attentively, then he points it in Jongin’s direction.

" This is perfect for my project! If we could just get a bit closer to the water… "

" Kyungsoo, focus. I have to— It’s me, I hired them. I agreed to this and now they’re erasing you. God, I’m so stupid. "

They sit down in the middle of the field, and he tentatively takes Kyungsoo’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles gently.

" We have to stop it before I wake up in the morning and I don’t know you anymore.  "

" How can you do that? You’re asleep. You took medication, even. "

" Maybe… if I tried to wake up now, maybe that’d work? Maybe if I concentrate hard enough… "

" Remember what I told you, about the human senses, it’s- it’s- "

" I can’t remember! "

" It’s okay, close you eyes and concentrate, Jongin. You can do it. "

He shuts his eyelids tight, as tight as he can, seeing shapes dance behind them. He opens his eyes and there it is, the white ceiling of his apartment. He can see a computer in his peripheral vision, connected to a swarm of cables, a shrill beeping coming out of it.

 

 

 

> _You sure it’s fine to leave the guy by himself?_
> 
> _Sure it is, I mean, he won’t go anywhere in that state, won’t he?_
> 
> _That’s not what I meant. Don’t you need to monitor him?_
> 
> _It’s fineeee. Baek, don’t worry. Here, cheers!_

 

A clank of glass somewhere he can’t see. He can’t move his head. His entire body is paralyzed. He shuts his eyes again, and he’s back in the field, Kyungsoo looking down at him.

" It worked." He mutters in astonishment. " For a second. I was in my bed but I couldn’t move. It’s useless. "

" Then what? I don’t know anymore. Maybe you just shouldn’t have done it in the first place. What were you thinking? "

Jongin sighs at Kyungsoo’s annoyance. He’s right but, " You know, you erased me first! I’m in this mess because you had it done before me! "

" I— I know… I’m sorry. You know how I am. I’m obstinate and I was angry… "

" We gotta find another way to stop the procedure. " Jongin tells him, rubbing Kyungsoo’s thigh over the cotton of his shorts.

" You’d only let me touch you when we were at my place or yours. Or when you were sure we were perfectly alone. It was hard for me, to pretend to be friends. " He rambles, looking at the expanse of yellow flowers at his feet, feeling the heat of Kyungsoo’s body near him.

" Jongin! Listen, I might have an idea. " Kyungsoo announces, throwing the navy blanket away. They’re laying on Kyungsoo’s single bed, bodies pressed against each other. He can feel Kyungsoo’s breath on his neck as he speaks.

" This is a memory of me. We were at my place and I was super tired but you wanted to have sex. "

Jongin rolls them over so Kyungsoo’s laying on top of him. His hands are caressing the back of Kyungsoo’s thighs, inching higher, fingers slipping under the em of Kyungsoo’s boxers. He looks up and the man’s giving him a pointed look, his eyebrows rising to mark his point.

" Hum " He removes his hands, draping his arms around Kyungsoo’s back instead. " Yeah— Hum… and… ? "

" _And_ , that means the Exology guys are gonna be erasing this too, because it’s part of the map. You get this, right? " Jongin nods. " You have to take me to a memory I don’t belong in. We could hide there until you wake up in the morning! "

" Where should we go? I can’t remember a memory without you. "

" Idiot, _think_. "

He sees his reflection in the mirror that covers the entire wall. The floor expands in clean polished wood, and soft classical music fills the room.

_Un, deux, trois, quatre. Un, deux,_

He’s seven years old. He likes music so much. This song’s his favorite, it’s so pretty. He’s wearing his ballet clothes, the outfit his mom had given him for his birthday in the winter. Ballet is so fun.

He steps on the cold floor, his naked feet tapping quietly as he reaches for the bar. His teacher is counting the steps in the ballet language; his mom had told him once that it was french.

" Jongin! Jongin you have to take me with you too! Concentrate, Jongin! "

" La pause! " His teacher says. It means it’s time for a break. All the other kids run for their lunch boxes, screaming excitedly.

" Jongin! " Kyungsoo hisses. " It’s working! "

 

 

 

> _Fuck! Baek, Baek,_ Baek _!_
> 
> _What? What’s up?_
> 
> _It stopped! It fucking stopped erasing! Oh god, what should we do, I’m in deep shit!_
> 
> _I don’t know! Fuck, Chanyeol, we have to do something! Joonmyun’s gonna kill us. I’m not even— Fuck, I’m not even supposed to be here!_
> 
> _I’m gonna fix it, there’s a way! I can—_
> 
> _You’re fucking drunk, idiot! Let’s call Joonmyun, he’ll be able to fix it!_
> 
> _No, I can do it, it’s my job, I’m— I’ll handle it_
> 
> _Stop fucking around, just call Joonmyun_
> 
> _Sehun’s not even here, what am I gonna say?_

 

" That’s it! It’s Sehun, he’s an intern at Exology! "

" Who? "

" Sehun! He fell in love with you when they were erasing your memory, and I think he stole from my stuff, he knows things about you— he went to your work, acting as if he didn’t know you, and asked you out, and now you’re dating him! He’s a fucking liar! "

" Really? " Kyungsoo says, incredulous. " I’m dating this guy? "

" He even calls you Soo, when I should be the only one— "

 

 

 

> _Hello Joonmyun? Yeah no I— I’m doing this guy right now and he went off the map all of a sudden. I was…. I went to pee and when I came back it stopped erasing. I’m sorry. Of course I tried that but— Please. Yes. Thank you._

 

The screams of the children fade away into a distant drone, school desks appearing in the ballet studio, neatly lined up. Jongin’s fifteen, his uniform shirt too large for him. Kyungsoo is sitting in front of him in his classmate’s clothes. It’s weird to see his love in his old high school uniform. It would’ve been nice to have known Kyungsoo for so long. Maybe things would’ve been different.

" Look at this! " Kyungsoo smiles at him, his hair short, neatly shaved on the sides. " I’m wearing your uniform! I could pass as your classmate! "

Jongin hides his face behind his textbook, embarrassed. " Don’t look at me, I was ugly back then. "

 

 

 

> _Baek, we need to clean up the place and fast_
> 
> _Should I leave? What’s he going to say if he sees me here instead of Sehun?_
> 
> _No, no just— stay and help me explain. He’s got a soft spot for you, it’ll be easier_

 

" That’s not true. You looked cute. You’ve always looked good. "

Jongin lowers the book, reaching for Kyungsoo’s face just as the other stiffens and avoids his hand. " Not here Jongin. We’re not alone. "

They’re technically not in public, they’re in Jongin’s mind. What does it matter?

 

 

 

> _Hi, huh, sorry to make you come all the way here in the middle of the night_
> 
> _It’s fine, let’s just get this back on track. Did you try passing through the C-Gate?_
> 
> _Of coooouuuurse…I mean yes, sir. But it didn’t do anything. He completely disappeared_
> 
> _Hey… doctor… how are you?_
> 
> _What’s Baekhyun doing here? Where’s Sehun?_
> 
> _Sehun had to… he had to go home sick? And Baek’s helping me out! He was— He was—_
> 
> _I’m super interested in your work, doctor! I wanted to learn more about the procedure and—_
> 
> _Alright, let’s just fix the guy before we lose him for good. We’re going to go over his entire memory system and put him back on the map._

 

The chair Jongin’s sitting on suddenly vanishes under him, making him fall on his back with a shout.

" Fuck! " He looks around and sees Kyungsoo stand up just as his chair disappears as well, followed by the desks, the walls rolling onto themselves.

 

  

 

> _There he is. What’s he doing so far off the map?_

 

The floor tiles are flacking, reduced to dust. The ground starts to shake, neon lights flashing on. Then they’re moving, and Jongin has just enough momentum to grab the handrail in front of him, the subway train departing fast. The neons are blinding him, blood pumping in his temples until his forehead hurts from the pressure.

" No! Wait! "

He blinks and sees his bedroom again, gasping for air. His hands won’t move and he understands he’s still paralyzed.

 

 

 

> _He’s awake! Holy shit, he just opened his eyes!_
> 
> _Did this happen to him before?_
> 
> _No! I swear it’s the first time!_
> 
> _That’s bad news. We’re going to have to inject him with this_

 

He watches in horror as Joonmyun takes out a large syringe, and on the side Chanyeol and the receptionist, Baekhyun, are watching with wide eyes. _Stop!_ he thinks. He screams inside his head for Joonmyun to stop, to let him wake up, but nobody hears his cries for help and he sees the syringe plunge inside his neck.

He reopens his eyes to find himself back in the subway, the low rumble of the engine synched with the trembling of the cart. Everything is quiet and he leans back in his seat with a sigh.

" Tired? " Kyungsoo asks softly, his fingers threading through Jongin’s fringe. They were alone in the cart this one time, after a long day Jongin had passed at school, studying for his tests. He’d stayed until the last train, and Kyungsoo had come to pick him up unannounced, bringing him snacks and offering Jongin to go back to his place for the night.

They’re alone, so Jongin pushes his luck, resting his head on Kyungsoo’s shoulder. When the other doesn’t move, he takes his hand in his and brings it to his lap.

" I am. " He answers.

He feels the man shift and then lips pressing on the side of his forehead, lingering there for a moment. It’s enough to dissipate the exhaustion in his body almost completely, something only Kyungsoo can achieve.

A neon flickers at the end of the compartment, and goes out, followed by the next one, until it becomes a chain reaction, the lights burning out one after the other. The seats start to disappear at the same time, and Jongin has just enough of his instinct to stand up and pull Kyungsoo with him as their seat dissolves into nothingness.

" Shit, Kyungsoo, run! " The cart slowly crumbles away, the floor breaking into pieces under their feet. They run and run until the framed photographs of smiling strangers reappear on the walls.

 

 

 

> _Where’s he going? He keeps sidetracking the map_
> 
> _I’ll get him, don’t worry_

 

Jongin pulls open the door, but it’s pitch black, only the vague form of a desk visible in the dark. The doctor is sitting behind it, but his voice comes out warped, like a scratched up disk playing distorted music. He has no facial features, just a slick surface of skin moving with the words.

" Tell me about Kyungsoo, Jongin. How did you meet him? "

In front of the desk, someone with his clothes, his hair, his body is sitting on a chair, but the face is just as empty, the skin stretched flat over the face.

 

 

 

> _Doc, there’s something strange here. He’s entered a memory we’ve already erased._
> 
> _Well, we know where he is now, don’t we?_

 

" Jongin, here! "

They’re back in the subway, the neons flickering on and off as they run from a compartment to the other, the photographs on the walls smiling down at them eerily. A door slides open finally and Kyungsoo pulls Jongin out just as it closes with a loud rattle. It’s dark on the other side, and aisles with shelves filled with DVDs go on for miles ahead of them.

" You have to take me deeper, Jongin! Hide me in your shame, your embarrassment! Find a repressed memory they’ll have a hard time detecting! "

" My… my shame… "

Water starts sprinkling on them, harder and warmer. He’s in the locker room showers, naked, and loud laughter and yells from his classmates echo on the tiled walls. Kyungsoo’s clothes are soaked, his short fringe sticking to his forehead in thin strands.

He turns off the water, wrapping a towel around his hips, walking out into the locker room where boys in dance apparel are changing.

" Fuck. Not this. " He mutters as he makes his way to his locker, trying to keep his eyes on the floor.

" Hey, Kim Jongin, do we have a problem here? " A boy shouts as Jongin opens his locker, trying to hide behind it.

" Huh? "

" Are you hard, Kim? "

" What the fuck, Kim! That’s gross! "

" There’s a fucking homo in here! Get him out! "

Jongin whimpers, trying to hide his crotch with his hands, rolling his clothes into a ball and running out of the room, tears welling up in his eyes. Kyungsoo catches up behind him, taking his hand in his and squeezing, a comforting gesture.

" It’s okay, Jongin. You were young. It happens. Those guys are idiots. " He says with a smile. " I’d know. " He adds.

 

 

 

> _Well, seems like you’re set. I’ll see you tomorrow—_
> 
> _Huh, doc, I’m sorry but, seems like he’s off the map again._
> 
> _Jesus…_

 

He was sixteen. He had to change dancing schools, although he never told his parents the reason for the bullying. He was so embarrassed and ashamed of himself.

" Let’s go, Jongin " Kyungsoo leads him to a classroom but as they enter they find themselves in Jongin’s apartment. Outside, rain is coming down in heavy streams, hitting the window with a loud clatter.

He presses Kyungsoo to his chest, kissing him deeply, tugging at his hoodie until Kyungsoo breaks away to take it off quickly. Reattaching his lips to Jongin’s immediately, their hands explore each other’s bodies, touching everywhere they can reach.

" That’s my hoodie, by the way— " Jongin says against the other’s jaw, and Kyungsoo doesn’t answer, kissing Jongin on the cheek, over his nose, biting on his upper lip. Jongin walks Kyungsoo backwards, and as his bare back touches the wall, Kyungsoo jumps and hikes his legs up around Jongin’s hips.

Jongin wouldn’t ever dream of being somewhere else, in those moments where Kyungsoo would forget his fear, when they were alone and they’d exist together, touch each other until the feeling of the other’s fingers on their skin would linger for hours and they couldn’t even think about not feeling the other’s lips on theirs. It made Jongin wonder how it’d be if he could be in love with Kyungsoo everywhere they went, not having to be constantly conscious of their surroundings.

Leaning forward, his chest hits the wall, Kyungsoo nowhere in sight.

The night is dark, only illuminated by the few porch lights from the old Hanoks and the streetlights in the distance, where a few higher buildings rise among the small shops and houses.

" Look, Jongin! " Kyungsoo says, his camera in hand. Jongin can’t help but recognize the street, the narrow passage between the two houses, and everything else down to the smell in the air.

" This way, Kyungsoo! " He gestures in the opposite direction, but Kyungsoo doesn’t listen. " No, Kyungsoo! We have to go! This isn’t good! "

" Come on! Don’t you want to see it? "

" No! Let’s go! We have to leave! " He snatches Kyungsoo’s camera, grabbing the man’s wrist. " Don’t go there! "

" Fuck you! " Kyungsoo shouts angrily, twisting his arm out of Jongin’s grasp. "Give me back my camera! "

" Kyungsoo, please listen to me, we can’t stay here— "

 

 

 

> _There he is. It’s strange, he keeps straying away, but he never goes far. He seems to always come back near the map._
> 
> _It’s like he’s trying to stop the process, don’t you think?_
> 
> _What are you saying, Baek? Don’t be stupid. He agreed to this himself_

 

He’s alone.

He runs down the street, reaching the beginning of the aisles with the same shelves filled with DVDs. A television fixed to the ceiling plays an old romance movie. « Joel, don’t forget me. » the voice of a woman comes out of the speakers, volume just high enough to be heard. « Try your best to remember me. »

Between the aisles, Kyungsoo is stacking DVD boxes back on the shelves, mouthing some words from the movie as they’re said.

" Hey. " He tries. He’s already thinking of the next then thousand words he could possibly say to this man, trying to chose the correct ones.

" Oh, it’s you. I didn’t think we’d meet again. " Kyungsoo says flatly. Right. He was expecting that.

" I’m sorry, I’m just not really a spontaneous person… I wasn’t really in my element back then and— I didn’t mean to leave you alone. I didn’t know what do to. "

" Why are you here then? "

" I just wanted to see you. "

Kyungsoo’s eyes widen comically, as if Jongin’s answer was the last thing he’d expected.

" Come here. " He whispers, irritated. Jongin’s already fucking up and he doesn’t even know what he’s doing. Kyungsoo brings him to the far end of the store. There’s only one other employee, and he’s snoring away at the rental counter, his face pressed into the crook of his elbow.

" Kyungsoo, I wanted to, maybe, we could— I mean, we could go somewhere? Together? If you want? "

" Jongin, listen. I like you a lot. It’s just— I can’t— I can’t do this. " He squeezes the bridge of his nose between his fingers. " Publicly. I can’t. You can’t touch me in public, you can’t tell me stuff you wouldn’t say to a friend in public. I don’t think you’d agree, right? To lie to your friends and your family, just to— "

" I don’t mind! I don’t— I’ll do it. I like you too. I like you so much. " He reaches for Kyungsoo’s hand, but gets his own hand slapped away just as fast.

" I just fucking told you— no touching. "

" Sorry! I’m sorry. Yes. " Jongin answers obediently, smiling widely. " Does that when we can… go out? " He adds in a low whisper.

" You have to promise, Jongin. "

" I promise. " He smiles sheepishly, nodding as he says it. Kyungsoo looks sad for a moment, but then he smiles back, and Jongin’s certain he won’t regret. They look at each other for a while, simply happy thinking about the past.

" I gave you a real speech that time, didn’t I? " Kyungsoo sighs, a bit embarrassed.

" You did. But I was whipped. I would’ve agreed to anything. "

" That’s not right. I should’ve thought about you more, yet I made you promise on something you ended up regretting. "

Jongin takes a step forward, placing his hands on Kyungsoo’s neck, rubbing the side of his jaw with his thumbs softly.

" I didn’t think about you either, you know. I should’ve known how scary it is; I should’ve stepped on my pride and made you my first priority. I’m so sorry, Kyungsoo. "

  

 

 

> _I’ve got him. We’re almost done._

 

Kyungsoo wraps his arms around Jongin’s neck, bringing him close, their foreheads touching.

" Jongin, don’t forget me. " And Jongin can only hold him tighter. " Try your best to remember me. "

And Jongin is alone again.

The venue is full, the chatter of the crowd loud as he scans the rows and rows of seats. He didn’t think a talent show in a city as remote as Daejeon would attract so many people.

" That’s the first time I saw you. " Jongin says as he spots Kyungsoo standing to the side of the auditorium, fidgeting with his camera, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

" I don’t know why I was instantly attracted to you. You didn’t have anything special, but you still stood out to me. The entire time I was performing, I was terrified thinking about you watching me. I had never been this nervous to dance, and I didn’t even know you. "

Jongin steps off the stage and into the green room with Yixing and his friend’s teammates, tired and on edge. In a daze, he changes into sweats and a hoodie, thinking about that moment he caught the man’s eyes during the performance and almost missed a step.

" After the show ended, I followed Yixing to the annex building where they were having that… party, with all the performers and their friends. I just stood to the side. I didn’t know anyone, and I kept thinking of your eyes. "

" Hi. " Kyungsoo appears beside him, leaning back on the wall. His camera is still rolling, but he lowers it down and looks in Jongin’s direction, expression too serious. " I saw you alone on your phone, while everyone was having fun, and I wanted to come talk to you. I though it was so odd how charismatic you were while dancing, and then you looked so young and shy, all by yourself. "

Jongin laughs. " I get that a lot. "

" I’m Do Kyungsoo. " Kyungsoo says. It sounded so easy, so simple, so he answered.

" Kim Jongin. " He looks down at his feet, and Kyungsoo smiles at him.

" Do you wanna go somewhere, Jongin? " He asks, and starts walking away. Jongin looks at Kyungsoo’s retreating back, unsure. He pockets his phone and jogs to catch up, walking out of the party into Daejeon’s quiet streets.

" You just left, without waiting for an answer. I wondered more than once if you would’ve really cared if I hadn’t followed. "

" Of course I would’ve cared. I thought you were interesting. "

They walk endlessly, far away from the auditorium. Jongin doesn’t think about texting Yixing to warn him.

" So huh… is that your job? " he asks, pointing to the camera.

" Kind of. I’m a cinema student so I try to get related side-jobs here and there. I’m just filming the event tonight and editing it all into a video the organizers will be able to post on their website and stuff. "

" Cool. " Jongin says eloquently, to which Kyungsoo snorts.

" Thanks. "

Kyungsoo suddenly stops walking, a worried frown on his face. " This is it, Jongin. Soon this will be gone too. "

" Yeah. " Jongin can only agree. They’ve really tried everything.

" What do we do now? " Kyungsoo sounds scared, but it’s too late. They have this for themselves still, and then it’ll all go away.

" We have to make the most of it. "

The streets are dark, silent safe for the distant hum of the cars coming from the center of the city they’d come from. Kyungsoo stops at an alley between two old Hanoks. There’s a stairway there, steep and ancient looking.

" Here, follow me. "

" What? Why here? Isn’t this private property? " Jongin whisper-yells as Kyungsoo goes down the stairs carefully, turning his camera back on to use its headlight.

" Probably not. Come on! "

" Kyungsoo! I’m not— I’m not going down there! "

It’s no use. Kyungsoo doesn’t listen and Jongin stands on the first step, gripping the handrail hard, looking into the dark as Kyungsoo’s camera light moves around at the bottom.

" Kyungsoo! "

" Come down, Jongin! There’s something here! "

" Great. " He mumbles between his teeth. He starts climbing down carefully, eye fixed on the light where Kyungsoo stands, waiting for him. The metal is rusty and the steps are unsteady, creaking under his feet. When he finally steps on solid ground, Kyungsoo points his camera towards him.

" Look! " He turns the light to the wall in front of them; a dead end. Painted on the wall, Jongin reads _Are you happy?_ in rushed strokes. Under it, two arrows. _Yes_ points to the left; _No_ points to the right.

Kyungsoo lowers his camera, gripping Jongin’s shoulder with his free hand. He reaches up and kisses him straight on the mouth, as if they hadn’t just met some hours earlier. Jongin knows this, but he can’t help bringing Kyungsoo flush against him, kissing him back fervently. He feels so light, so _good_ , even forgetting where they are.

" Do you have a boyfriend? " Kyungsoo asks between kisses, his fingers tugging at Jongin’s hair.

" No but— I— "

" Girlfriend? " Kyungsoo interrupts. Jongin leans back an inch at the words.

" What? No, I’m not— I mean I don’t— "

" It’s okay, just making sure. " Kyungsoo smiles against his lips, bitting on Jongin’s tongue before retreating, bringing his camera back up. He turns left and disappears again, the darkness swallowing him.

To his right, the path is blocked by a wall, leaving no option for him.

" Come on Jongin! I heard there’s an old man living around here that gives people coffee from his kitchen window. "

" That doesn’t even make any sense! And it’s way too late! Kyungsoo, we should go back! "

" It’s not even midnight! "

" We should go. "

He doesn’t see Kyungsoo, but the camera light is pointed at him once again. " Then go. " Kyungsoo says, tone serious. It hurts more than he'd have expected.

" I really did go, then. " He says into the dark. Kyungsoo’s voice comes out of the shadows, slightly muted.

" I know. I wish you hadn’t, though. "

The roof tiles of the Hanoks all around him crumble into dust, the wooden structures rotting until they, too, start to wither away.

" I wish I’d stayed. I wish I’d done a lot of things. "

" I came back to the stairs and you were gone. "

" Yeah, I climbed them up two by two and ran back to the auditorium "

" Why? " Kyungsoo asks, genuinely curious.

" I don’t know. I got scared. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I’ve never been the most adventurous guy, you know that. Now I wish I’d stayed. I regret it so much. God, Kyungsoo, If only I’d stayed with you that night. "

The rusty stairs start shaking as the houses around Jongin continue to decay, and the few porch lights short-circuit and go off overhead, only Kyungsoo’s camera headlight blinking at him.

" Was it something I said? That made you leave? "

Jongin climbs up the stairs two by two, reaching the top just as the metallic structure trembles violently and shrinks into itself. He looks down where he had been, thinking about Kyungsoo’s question.

" Yeah… you said « then go » as if you thought nothing of it. I thought it didn’t matter to you if I was there or not. "

" I’m sorry, Jongin. "

He starts to run down the street where he came from, trying to remember the way back to the venue, remembering Yixing had been waiting for him to go back to Seoul.

" What if you stay, this time? "

He hears Kyungsoo behind him so he stops in his tracks, drawn to the voice just like the first time. Kyungsoo’s looking up at him, his expression still serious, almost severe.

" I can’t. " He answers. " I ran away. That’s the end, it’s the last memory. I got back to the party and went up to Yixing as if nothing happened. I felt so ashamed of myself. "

" Let’s say goodbye, at least. We can create a goodbye as if we had one. "

There’s only a couple feet of distance between them, which Kyungsoo crosses without hesitation.

" Goodbye, Jongin. " The smile on his face is the most beautiful Jongin’s ever seen, and he thinks how sad it is that it’s not even part of a real memory. " I love you. "

Kyungsoo cradles his face in the palm of his hand, the warmth of his breath fanning against Jongin's ear as he gets even closer.

" Meet me in Daejeon, Jongin. I’ll be there. "

Then he’s outside the auditorium’s annex, Yixing’s arm around his shoulder as they walk towards the nearest train station. He feels like crying, sinking his nails into the skin of his palm to hold it in.

" I saw you talk to someone at the party earlier. Who was that? " He hears his friend ask, tone teasing.

" You left with him for a while, didn’t you? What’s his name? " Someone else adds. He wishes for all kinds of things he can’t really understand himself.

" Nobody. It was nobody. " He answers. There’s a voice somewhere he recognizes, yet he can’t remember who it belongs to.

 

 

 

> _That’s it. We’re done here._

 

☀︎

 

Jongin wakes up one morning overcome by the inexplicable feeling that the world has changed. He’s still himself, still Kim Jongin, 23 years old broke accounting student. The ceiling of his 2 1/2 apartment in Sillim, Seoul, is still an old white bordering on grey, the paint flaking along the edge; the walls are still bare, and the sofa-bed he sleeps in is still as comfortable as it could possibly get.

He remembers reading, a long time ago, how humans have a very limited perception of the world, how they probably lack some senses and thus many things go unnoticed around them. The world changes every time you close your eyes; with each blink, the world shifts a bit, but the transformation can never be detected, even if it’s right there. Eyes fixed on the ceiling, Jongin shuts his eyelids tightly and inhales slowly. When he re-opens them, exhaling at the same time, he frowns and concentrates on every inch his vision covers, trying to find _it_. How has the world changed between the moment he closed and opened his eyes? How has the world changed since he went to sleep last night and woke up this morning?

 _Something’s missing_ he thinks. He checks the time on the old DVD player fitted right under the monitor.

6:23am, and nothing’s missing.

 

☀︎

 

" I don’t think I’ll be able to come in to work today… yeah I— no I don’t feel well… I know…yes I will… yes thank you. Alright. Thanks again. "

The cart is almost empty and Jongin is glad he can avoid the curious glares his bruised face would have attracted otherwise. He must look like a delinquent or just pretty pathetic, really. Maybe it’s a good thing he didn’t show up to work in the end.

 

☀︎

 

When Jongin opens his eyes, the sun is up behind the high buildings of Seoul, and the sky is clear overhead. To his right, Kyungsoo has barely moved. He’s still lying down, his short fringe brushing his forehead with the wind, and his hand has reached out in his sleep until his knuckles are touching Jongin’s side over his shirt.

 

☀︎

 

" Can I help you? "

The stranger looks young despite his height. He’s dressed fashionably as all Hongdae kids ought to be, intimidating in the way he seems to not care about anything; aloof, yet confident. Jongin’s convinced he doesn’t look _that_ much like crap, despite his black eye. It’s fading anyway, right?

" What do you mean? "

" Do you need help with anything? "

" No… thanks? "

The guy looks at him intently.

" Are you sure? "

" Yes I’m sure, I don’t need anything, I’m just waiting for someone. Thank you though. "

" Okay then. Hum, yeah. Bye. " The stranger stares at him as he leaves.

 _Weird_ he thinks. Everything’s been a little weird recently.

 

☀︎

 

Kyungsoo's talking on the phone as he comes down, or rather, _yelling_. Jongin doesn't know why but he smiles. It's a new side to Kyungsoo he's seeing for the first time, it's exciting.

 

" Don't call me ever again! No I— you think I give a damn about that? Don't contact me again, I'm serious. " And he hangs up.

Kyungsoo looks up to Jongin and grins, shrugging.

" Sorry. "

" Who was that? Are you okay? "

" It's nothing just a... a guy I was seeing... " Kyungsoo pauses to glance at Jongin, like he's apprehending a reaction. Jongin thinks it's weird, because although they haven't officially talked about preferences and stuff, he likes to think there was _something_ there, that didn't necessarily need words. " I wasn't feeling well two nights ago and he came to my place, but it was just weird, you know? He was saying some weird things, his words felt off. I got annoyed and kicked him out and since then he's been... I don't know. He's trying too hard. "

" I see. " Jongin says with a smile. Even Kyungsoo can get annoyed and difficult with others. " So, do you still want to... "

" Jongin. " Kyungsoo's frown deepens, looking too serious. Jongin's nervous but honestly he's ready to try anything at this point. " Listen, I like you. I like you a lot. It's just, I can't... date like this. Publicly. I can't do this. I don't think you deserve someone like me. I'm hardheaded and selfish and I'm a coward who can't assume who he is. You wouldn't be able to touch me in public, or tell me stuff you wouldn't say to a friend. You couldn't tell your friends or your family. You'd feel trapped and get fed up and I'd get mad at you, and— "

" That's okay. " Jongin says, his tone assured. Kyungsoo in front of him is speechless, eye wide as if he could've never expected that answer.

" Okay? "

" It's okay, Kyungsoo. I can't promise, though. But I want to try. I think it's worth it. "

" Are you sure? "

" I'm sure. It's okay, Kyungsoo. "

" Okay. " He echoes, unsure. " Okay. " He smiles and laughs a little, and Jongin knows he won't regret it.

" Can I kiss you? " Jongin asks in a low voice. " Just this once? "

Kyungsoo sighs and looks around quickly. They're still in front of Kyungsoo's apartment building, and despite being alone, there's still a possibility someone could see them.

" It's fine if— "

" Okay. Just this once. "

Kyungsoo leans up just as Jongin's hands come to hold his face carefully. The touch of Kyungsoo's lips feels familiar, and the strange impression he'd had for the last two days subsides finally. There's nothing missing, nothing added.

They pull away and when Jongin blinks, Kyungsoo's smiling for a moment before he looks serious again.

 

☀︎

 

One takes the other's gloved hand as they struggle to not slip on the ice covering the old stairs. They climb one step at a time, a small cup of warm coffee in the other hand. The sun shines brightly in the sky, the wind erasing their footsteps in the snow. They look at each other for a while, simply happy thinking about the future.

 

☀︎

 

 _Then conscience sleeps, and leaving nature free,_  
_All my loose soul unbounded springs to thee._  
_Oh cursed, dear horrors of all-conscious night,_  
_How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight._

-Eloisa to Abelard, Alexander Pope

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was a real challenge for me. I decided to join the fest when I was already extremely busy with finals, and then I left on a six weeks long trip to Japan. Actually, most of this fic was written in my friend's and I's little Airbnb in Nishishinjuku, Tokyo. I worked extremely hard on it so I could finish on time, and I'll probably always be proud of myself for going through with it. I wanna say a big thanks to the kaisooaufest admins who put up with my 1000 correction emails and who constantly encouraged me. I'm forever grateful for your help.
> 
> Finally, a little trivia about this fic: the steep stairwell and mural asking if you're happy are real! It's a secret place in Samcheongdong, Seoul. My friend showed it to me during our trip to Korea in the winter 2015-16. Apparently, the old man giving out coffee from his window is also real, but I didn't see him myself.
> 
> Thank you for reading and commenting! I always appreciate it.  
> See you soon!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/kocha__b)  
> 


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